


Nights Avoiding Things Unholy

by EllisJay



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Gratuitous use of fingers and tongues, Inappropriate use of work surfaces, Masturbation, Oral Sex, an attempt was made to keep this below 5k, and who am I to argue at this point?, kirazi said this was supposed to be tagged cock worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisJay/pseuds/EllisJay
Summary: It's been three weeks since Brienne and Jaime had unexpectedly fucked in the office after work. They haven't talked about it since, and she was happy to avoid both him and that particular conversation.With the way he's watching her tonight, though, she knows that avoiding it is no longer an option.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 70
Kudos: 201
Collections: The Exchange that was Promised: Jaime x Brienne Smut Swap 2021





	Nights Avoiding Things Unholy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aviss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/gifts).



> For Aviss, who gave me the absolute best prompts, and whose work I have fangirled over more than once. 
> 
> Every single prompt was amazing, but I went for the song because I just couldn't resist. If you'd like to listen, it's "Follow Me Down" by the Pretty Reckless and here is the link (though I will warn you not to listen to it with other ears nearby or you WILL be asked if you're watching porn in the first 27 seconds): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfwJ-SoYw4U
> 
> Aviss, you called this song The Blowjob Song, so I hope you're happy with what I've come up with. Jaime is.

He was watching her.

It didn’t matter where she moved inside the conference hall, Brienne could  _ feel _ Jaime’s eyes tracking her. She could feel them tracing the long line of her spine as surely as she had felt his fingertips all those weeks ago--firm, hot, possessive.

She tried to ignore him, to focus on mingling with her colleagues and laughing politely at the bosses’ jokes, but as the minutes ticked by slowly into an hour and then two, it became impossible. He was circling closer and closer, close enough that she could make out the low rumble of his voice, the easy roll of his laugh. 

It scraped across her nerves as firmly as his beard had scraped across her neck.

She had tried  _ so hard _ to not think about how he had felt pressed against her as he fucked her against the wall in the breakroom after a day of meetings and deliberations and arguments. She still wasn’t sure how he had gone from snarling her name to moaning it against her ear, his hips snapping against hers, the thick ridge of his cock and the press of his thumb against her clit making her bite down on his shoulder to muffle her scream as she came. She tried to forget how he had felt inside her, how his fingers had dug into her thighs as he held her against the wall, how his ragged breathing and the slap of skin on skin had filled the room until nothing outside of it existed.

She had hated Jaime Lannister, then she had respected Jaime Lannister, and somehow, three weeks ago, she had fucked Jaime Lannister.

They hadn’t talked about it. Looking back, she was fairly sure they had both been in a state of shock afterward. He’d been gone on a business trip the following week, a week in which her phone stayed silent, and then she’d been tied up in budget meetings the one after that. Avoiding each other had been easy, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe it was an unacknowledged moment of madness between them. Just two co-workers who had been under a lot of strain and in need of a break and whose break had somehow manifested in fucking.

Surely that happened sometimes? It was a first for her, but easy enough to chalk up as just one of those things. Easier than thinking about how she  _ had  _ been willing to talk about it, at least before his silence made it clear that he wasn't. 

Or it would've been, if Jaime hadn’t entered week three with the intention of driving her absolutely crazy.

He just kept  _ looking  _ at her, every time they passed in the halls, or from across the conference table. She had slipped into the breakroom to grab a fork, and when she’d turned he’d been leaning against the doorway, smirking, arms folded across his chest, his eyes hot and hooded. He had glanced over at the wall-- _ their  _ wall--then back at her, licking his lips as his eyes slid down her body. Brienne had flushed and fled, mortified by the pulse of heat between her thighs and the knowing arch of his eyebrow. All week he had been there when she had turned, never saying anything, never mentioning what had happened. Just watching her with eyes that made her belly clench and her breath run faster, and a smile that she would have called affectionate if she didn’t know better. When she thought about it, she realized how often she had found Jaime watching her, even from the beginning.

Fingertips, warm and already familiar, slid across her back where her dress dipped low. “Enjoying yourself, Tarth?” Jaime’s voice was a low murmur in her ear, making Brienne choke on her champagne. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He eased around in front of her, and she dearly wished she had more drink in her glass just to give her something else to focus on besides how good he looked in his suit, his hair tousled and his beard tidy. She wanted to slide her hands inside his jacket, feel the rise of his ribs against her palms, and drag her teeth along his jaw; wanted to breathe him in and break him apart until he was as absolutely wrecked as she’d been for the past twenty-one days.

“Lannister,” she said, and  _ fuck _ she could hear it in her voice, that low thrum of want that was sliding through her veins. She knew he could hear it too by the way his eyes turned just as dark and hungry as they had before he’d surged on his toes to give her that first urgent kiss.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. The words were polite, but there was nothing gentlemanly about the way he said them, the way he looked at her as they were delivered. “You look a little flushed.”

“It’s warm in here,” she returned, her chin lifting slightly.

“Warm,” he repeated. “And here I thought you’d be staying nice and cool with all that skin on display.” She felt his finger slide across hers, a slow, subtle stroke that made her breath catch in her throat. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“Why would you have?” she asked with a lazy arch of her brow. “I don’t wear them to work.”

“A shame.” His finger circled around to stroke across the thin skin of her wrist, but his eyes never left hers. “It would have been much easier to fuck you against the wall if you’d been in one.”

_ Gods _ . Even hearing him say the word “fuck” was better than half the foreplay she’d ever experienced. “I thought we weren’t talking about that.” 

It was his eyebrow that lifted this time, his eyes sparking on hers. “We aren't?” he asked, his fingers closing around her wrist as he stepped closer, closer than colleagues were supposed to stand. She wanted to look around, to assure herself that nobody was watching them, but couldn’t seem to free her gaze from his own. “I don’t remember agreeing to anything like that. Why would I?”

“Because there's nothing to talk about,” she said with a confidence that she did not feel.

“I think we have plenty to talk about.” His thumb began to move on her wrist, slowly dragging across the sensitive skin, down to the center of her palm, and back again. “We could talk about this dress you’re wearing tonight, and how it’s been driving me insane since you walked into the room. Did you wear it for me, Tarth? Tell me you did.” His voice was casual, conversational, completely at odds with the look in his eyes, and she flushed even more, wondering if he was right. “No? I see you don’t want to talk about that. We could talk about three weeks ago, when I fucked you in our nice, quiet breakroom.” She sucked in a breath at his words, at the rush of heat they brought. “Not that either?”

“Don't.” Gods, was that her voice? It didn’t sound like her. She didn't like feeling off-balance, as if there were a joke being told that she didn't quite get--she had left that girl behind in college, and had been happy to do so--but she couldn’t  _ think _ . How was she supposed to when his finger wouldn’t stop that easy, lazy stroke across her skin while he talked about fucking her?

“Oh, I know,” Jaime smiled, so slow and filthy that Brienne’s thighs pressed together in desperation. “We could talk about where we need to go so that I can fuck you again.”

She hated his smug face in that moment, hated that she had spent the last three weeks thinking of doing nothing else but having him inside her again, hated that the slide of his thumb on her, his glittering eyes and pointed words, had her shifting in her heels, uncomfortably aware of how wet she was. 

Brienne wrenched her wrist from his grip, something sparking dangerously inside her when his eyes narrowed. She let the moment hang between them, and drew herself up to her full height. "Now you want to talk, Lannister? Fine, let's talk, but not here." Brienne pivoted on one heel and walked away, chin up, her long legs eating up the ground as she moved towards the doors.

Without waiting for him, Brienne made her way across the lobby towards the main office, taking deep breaths as she went. The silence was nearly oppressive out here, broken only by the clack of her heels and the soft press of his shoes, the sound of the party muffled by the doors and the distance. She didn’t understand how the air could be so still and quiet, not when everything inside her was a tangled storm of frustration and want.

Brienne shoved open the door to the office, a quick glance confirming that the cubicles were empty. The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the overnight lights, and quiet except for their faint hum. She took another deep breath and then turned, firming her jaw as Jaime came striding in, deliberately pushing the door shut behind him.

She knew Jaime didn't want to talk any more than she did, but while she wanted him, she also wanted to feel like herself again, like the confident woman she’d always been with him. 

He stalked towards her, his legs crossing the ground as quickly as hers had, his eyes burning. Before she could speak, his hands came up to cup her face, and he lifted on his toes and surged towards her. She could have stopped him--now and three weeks ago. She just didn’t want to. His mouth slanted over hers, no longer teasing, no longer playful, instead a demanding slide of lips and tongue against her own, his teeth nipping against her bottom lip until she opened for him.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand gripping the lapel of his jacket, the other sliding around to fist in his hair, holding him steady as her mouth devoured him. Jaime tasted like the Scotch he'd been drinking, and the slight burn of its flavor enhanced his own. She wanted to kiss him until she had absorbed every bit of the alcohol, leaving only the taste of him on her tongue.

“Jaime,” she gasped out as they broke apart, her body arching into his when he bit the curve of her jaw before moving to her ear. She moaned, low and long, as he shifted down to her collarbone, the drag of his beard just rough enough to have her hips jerking towards his. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Fuck now,” he muttered, scraping his teeth across her clavicle until he could swirl his tongue in the hollow of her neck. “Talk later.” His hand slid from her neck down her back, the rough glide of his fingertips following the track of her spine as if it were a map. “This godsdamn dress has been killing me all night. Every time you moved, I’d watch your muscles shift and think about how you felt around me.” He rocked his hips against hers in a slow grind, the hard press of his cock pulling another moan from her throat as she ground back helplessly. “Let me touch you. Let me have you.”

Brienne wanted to. She wanted to sit back on the desk, hike up her dress, and drag him back into her. She wanted to feel him moving with that same rough and rapid urgency he’d shown her three weeks ago when he’d upended her world and left her reeling. But more than that, she wanted to break  _ him _ apart, wanted to see him lose control at her hands and mouth, wanted to feel like she had some sort of upper hand again, even if it was just for a moment. Even if it was just an illusion.

At the thought, she gripped his shoulders and used her strength to maneuver him until he was the one pressed against the desk, before stepping back to look at him. Gods, he was gorgeous, even more than usual with his jacket rumpled and his lips shiny, his eyes dark on hers. She let her eyes move slowly down his body, letting out a slow breath when she came to the heavy line of his erection. She lifted her eyes back up to his, enjoying the way his breath hitched as she reached out to drag her finger across the head of his cock, circling almost lazily before sliding her palm across him as she moved to hook her fingers in his belt loops. “No,” she said, and  _ now  _ her voice was hers again--confident and sure, if a bit husky. “This time, I’m going to have  _ you _ .”

Jaime shuddered, his eyes falling shut momentarily. “Then have me, Tarth,” he told her. “Whatever you want.”

Brienne had to swallow against the sudden tightness in her throat, not willing to examine the sudden realization of just how  _ much _ she wanted him. Instead, she kept her eyes on his as she tugged his shirt out of his pants, and then methodically unbuttoned it, starting from the open collar. His breathing picked up as she made her way down his chest, each brush of her fingers another kind of tease for them both. When she finally freed the last button, she moved her hands up his body, parting the open panels slightly, relishing the way his skin burned beneath her palms. She reversed course, moving quicker now, her nails dragging into his skin as she slid them to press just underneath the band of his pants, her thumbs digging into his hip bones. “Gods, Tarth, stop torturing me and  _ touch _ me,” he growled

“You said whatever I want,” she reminded him, trying to ignore her own surge of impatience. How was she supposed to stay in control when Jaime was almost glaring at her, his body shifting minutely under her hands, ready for her to do as she pleased? “This is what I want.”

“What?” he bit out as her fingers deftly undid his belt and moved to his button. “To kill me before I ever get my hands on you?” 

Brienne couldn’t help but grin at him, big and toothy and open, as she slid his zipper down, making sure her knuckles dragged down his hard length. “Yes,” she said simply, her thumb stroking against him with the same lazy rhythm he had used on her wrist.

“You’ve been killing me for weeks. Months,” Jaime gasped, then pushed forward again, taking her mouth in a desperate kiss. The frenzied rush had Brienne straining to shove him to the floor, yank her underwear to the side, and ride him until she no longer felt like he lived just under her skin.

She wavered for a moment, but then broke the kiss, shoving him back again until his thighs were pressed against the desk. "Still my turn," she said, more breathlessly than she intended. He’d been a distraction all week, both the memory and the reality of him, but she refused to let him distract her tonight. 

Keeping her eyes on his, she slid onto her knees before him. 

"Oh fuck," he gasped. "Tarth. You look…" Jaime shook his head as he trailed off, his jaw flexing as she leaned forward to nuzzle at the gap of his pants. 

Brienne dragged her nose against his cock, letting her warm breath wash across him as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of his pants, tugging slightly. “I look?”

“Like even though you’re on your knees, I should be the one worshipping you,” Jaime breathed, his words choking in his throat as she mouthed along the heavy curve of his cock. Brienne hummed in surprised pleasure at the raw honesty in his voice, before easing just his pants down so that they slid to his knees, held up by the spread of his legs. She could see the shape of his cock better now, the way it curved up towards his hip, the slight damp spot where the head rested just shy of the band of his boxer briefs. Sliding her eyes up to his face, she leaned forward and wrapped her mouth just there, the fabric soft on her tongue, the smell of him warm and clean and salty and  _ male _ . Jaime’s head fell back on a long moan, the tendon of his throat standing out sharply, and he cursed as he gripped the edge of the desk.

“Tarth,” he choked as she continued to suck in long and steady pulls. “I will give you anything you want, just please,  _ please _ \--” Whatever he was going to say dissolved into a frustrated groan as she moved her mouth to trace along the top of his underwear. Brienne hummed a little as she moved her hands from the backs of his knees up along the heavy muscle of his thighs, finally grasping the band of his boxers and tugging them downward to join his pants.

She wrapped her hand tightly around the base of his cock and allowed herself a moment to admire him, his body coiled and his eyes desperate on hers. She took him in, something inside her shifting a bit as he looked back, his face open and agonized. Keeping his eyes on hers, Jaime reached out to trace the line of her brow with his finger, skimming it down her cheek as they watched each other. 

For a moment, Brienne let the tenderness in his touch wash over her, and allowed herself the freedom of letting her own rush through her. It would be so much easier to fuck Jaime if he wasn't so damn easy to like. She understood sex, even when it was a surprise, but she didn’t know what to do with these feelings he inspired in her. Tucking those thoughts away, she pressed a soft kiss to his finger before lifting his hand from her face. 

Keeping her grip on his cock firm, she reached out and traced a finger against the damp tip, darkly pleased by this tangible proof of how badly he wanted her. She dragged her nail, scraping just slightly as she moved her hand down his rigid length, mapping out the curve of his cock, the slight bulging of his veins. “Tarth,” he bit out, his hips shifting slightly. “Please.”

Brienne liked him like this, a man who was always so in charge, allowing himself to surrender, wanting her enough,  _ trusting  _ her enough to let her lead. It was thrilling. She allowed herself one brief smile before leaning forward to run her tongue along the underside of his cock, humming a little as the taste coated her tongue. His eyes were heavy on hers, his jaw tight, his knuckles white where they had retreated to the desk as if it were all that was keeping him on his feet. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to see how long it would take to bring him to his knees, so she let her tongue circle the head of his cock, his taste stronger and earthier there, before giving them what they both wanted and enveloping him in her mouth.

The strangled moan he let out was long, and low, and filthy, making Brienne’s cunt flutter in anticipation. She shifted slightly, trying to relieve the ache, and her fingers clenched on his hip as she opened her mouth even more, curving her tongue around him. She hadn’t gotten this last time, the dark and slightly bitter taste of him, the way his skin felt both hard and smooth against her lips and tongue, the shiver that wracked his body when she carefully grazed him with her teeth. She had missed so many details, so many different sounds and textures, in that furious, thrilling rush of fucking, but found even more pleasure in collecting these pieces of him to add to the ones he had already let her have.

“Fuck, Tarth,” Jaime moaned above her, his chin dropping to his chest so he could watch her. “Do you know how many times I’ve looked at your lips and wanted them anywhere on me? Your lips, your hands. Everything, anything. Every day. Do you know what you do to me? Please. I want--let me. Good. You're so good." Brienne let out a small gasp against his cock, staggered by the way his awestruck words lit something inside her, a dual tug in her chest and her cunt. "You make me crazy, make me want to--” He cried out again as she sucked a little harder. His hands lifted, one sliding through her loose tangle of hair, the other cupping her jaw. His thumb stroked against her cheek, a little firmer and faster than the touch he had used on her wrist earlier. His fingers flexed slightly in her hair, his hips lifting in time with her mouth, and Brienne growled as she let his cock slip free.

“No moving,” she demanded. “Not yet.” And then, to make sure he listened, she curled both hands around his thighs, fingers digging in to hold him in place before lowering her head again.

She had never felt this sort of rush before, at least not during this particular act. But Jaime Lannister was the most compelling man she’d ever met. Not just because of his face and body, but because of all those pieces of him he had let her see since the beginning. She’d seen him arrogant and self-assured, stressed out and tense; had fought beside him for benefits for their part-time employees, and smiled when he had increased their receptionist’s dental coverage and taken on the cost. She’d seen so many facets of Jaime, from the brashly irritating to the quietly vulnerable, and had come to like every single one.

But to see him like this, his chest and stomach heaving, his hair in disarray, his eyes intense; to feel him shuddering in her grip and thickening in her mouth; to hear him nearly begging, his beautiful voice hoarse and needy -- it combined in a surge of pleasure and pride, a primal satisfaction at being the one to undo him this way. Some part of her had wanted this since they had met, to take him apart and put him back together and hold him until their rough pieces learned to fit.

Brienne sucked him deeper, using her grip on his thighs to tug him forward, controlling his movement so that while he was thrusting into her mouth, she was still the one in charge. Above her, Jaime moaned, long and deep and desperate as he slid both hands into her hair, cradling her head with a surprisingly gentle grip. She let go of one of his thighs and fumbled along the slit of her skirt to skate her fingers between her legs, whimpering around him when they slid across her cunt where she was swollen and wet.

“Tarth, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Jaime choked out, and she realized that her eyes had fallen shut at some point when she had to open them to look at him again. His face was contorted, his gaze flicking rapidly from her eyes to her mouth to her hand, unable to settle on what they wanted to see the most. “Gods, I want to see you. I love that dress but I want it off, I want it gone. I want to see how you touch yourself. Do you fuck yourself fast? Slow? Tell me.” His eyes were wild, his voice guttural. “How many fingers do you use? Two? Three?”

Brienne felt her control beginning to slip as she worked three fingers inside her cunt quickly, dancing them to the same rhythm her mouth was using to fuck him. She could hear little noises escaping from her throat as she rocked her hips, the sounds muffled by his cock as her orgasm built quickly, nearly lightheaded from the pleasure of his words and her hand. 

“You feel so fucking good around me. It’s all I’ve thought of, all I’ve wanted since that night. I want to touch you, want my mouth on you. I’ll do anything, anything for you. I can’t, please, please, Tarth, let me,” Jaime was babbling now, his hips thrusting shallowly as if he couldn’t contain them, and Brienne simply sucked harder as his fingers curled into her hair just as she curled her fingers inside her, his desperation driving her own. “ _ Brienne _ ,” he moaned and it was that, the sound of her name alongside the swipe of her thumb against her clit that had her bucking around her hand, moaning as pleasure spiked through her, a sharp lifting of her body as her cunt pulled at her fingers. “Brienne,” Jaime said again, his voice breaking over her name as his body tightened and shook against her while he came.

Brienne let him slip out of her mouth, licking the last trace of him off her lips, and rested her forehead against his hip as they trembled and gasped for air, both reeling from their release and the intimacy of the moment. She felt as if every muscle in her body had been massaged, every bit of tension wrung out of her by the force of her orgasm. 

After several long moments, quiet except for the sound of their breathing, Jaime’s hand slipped to her bicep, urging her to her feet. Her own hand slid from between her legs as he lifted her upwards, grabbing her wrist before she could discreetly wipe her fingers on the hem of her dress. She could feel her nerves returning, which seemed ridiculous after what had just happened, but true nonetheless. It had been the exact same way last time. 

He stared at her, his eyes somehow lazy with satisfaction and yet still wanting as he lifted her hand between them. Without breaking eye contact, without hesitation, he leaned forward and opened his mouth slightly, giving her a flash of pink tongue, before he closed his lips around her index finger.

She wasn’t sure who let out the loudest noise when his tongue curled around her knuckle, sucking her finger into his mouth with the same slow and steady pulls she had used on his cock earlier, but she was prepared to bet that it was her. Jaime’s eyes flared even brighter as he moved to her middle finger, and then her ring finger, confirming for himself that she had indeed used three fingers when she had been on her knees before him. Brienne felt her nerves dissipate as quickly as they arrived, as if Jaime were washing them away with each slide of his tongue.

She didn’t know if she’d ever feel awkward and unsure with Jaime again, not now. Not after she had him shaking and crying out her name, not now that she was watching him suck the taste of her off of her fingers and onto his tongue, his eyes steady on hers. She wasn’t at all sure that she was still in control of herself or the situation--she certainly hadn’t been towards the end, not with the way Jaime’s words had so quickly dismantled her-- but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Maybe she didn’t have to be. Maybe she could trust the bits of Jaime he had let her see, and trust him to lead her sometimes. She wasn’t sure of that either, but she thought it might be worth the try. 

Testingly, she rubbed her thumb against his lips, smiling slightly when he growled and bit it gently before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth. Jaime slid his tongue along the ridge of her nail bed, down across the rough skin of her knuckle, pressing downward until his nose rested against her palm, and her finger slid across his cheekbone. When he released her, it was with a noisy pop that she barely heard before his mouth was on hers again.

Slower this time, so much slower, and Brienne wondered if this was always how he kissed after an orgasm. Just as intense, just as thorough, but deeper, more intoxicating. She could taste a hint of herself in his mouth, a subtle shift in flavor that had her pressing even closer, wondering if he could also find himself in hers. She could taste something else in his kiss, something she wasn’t quite ready to look at head-on, but there nonetheless.

When they broke apart, their breathing a little ragged, Jaime leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes bright and hopeful. "Come home with me," he whispered softly.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Brienne murmured, more than a little regretful. 

"It's an excellent idea," Jaime disagreed immediately. "I'm fully supportive of our new work habits, but I want you in my bed, Brienne. Or I want to be in yours. Or we could go to that hotel down the street, I don't care. I just don’t want this to be it."

"Jaime."

"Give me one good reason for us to say no," Jaime said quietly. "Because I can give you dozens of good ones for us to say yes."

And the thing was, Brienne could too. They worked well together, falling into a natural rhythm no matter how much he kept her unsteady. "I'm sure you can," Brienne said, buying some time so that she could think. "You've always been good at running your mouth."

That same slow and dirty smile spread across his face, causing another flutter in her belly. "If you think I'm good with my mouth now, I promise I can do so much better. Let me show you, Brienne."

Ignoring the way her heart sped up at the sound of her name, Brienne studied him, his face glowing in the dim lighting of the place where he had gone from an adversary, to an ally, to almost a friend. She didn’t know what he would be classified as now, but as she looked at him, at his sure smile and his kind eyes, she knew that he could be something  _ more _ . All she had to do was take a chance and say yes.

“Okay, Jaime,” she said softly, and his smile turned from salacious to unbearably sweet. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where to?” he asked, reaching down to hitch his pants back up around his hips. “Anywhere you want.”

“Let’s start with the hotel room, for now at least.”

“Not sure if you want to let me into your home yet, Tarth?” His voice was still playful, still affectionate, but it was there again, the hint of vulnerability that made her want to pull him close.

“Not that at all,” she countered. “But you did promise to show me what you could do with your mouth, and the hotel is much closer.”

Jaime’s delighted laugh filled the room before he reached out and dragged her against him once more.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have people to thank, but to name them would be a dead giveaway.
> 
> So I will just say thank you so much to the people that listened to me complain about this, who encouraged this, who made a valiant effort to shave words off of it when it kept creeping upwards. Thank you to the ones who made excellent suggestions, who pointed out where my drafts didn't quite work when combined, and who keysmashed in my doc when they hit a part they particularly liked.
> 
> You're all the best and I love you, and this fic is so much better for having your eyes on it.


End file.
